


A Grand Climax

by samii_senpai



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game), The Evil Within 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Art, Blood, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, I Don't Even Know, Knifeplay, Lol the title is so subtle, M/M, Oh My God, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Restraints, SEBASTIAN - Freeform, Stabbing, Top Sebastian, Trigger Warning for Violence, artist, artwork, its porn, stefano - Freeform, what did i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samii_senpai/pseuds/samii_senpai
Summary: “I am Stefano.” He answered, “And you are now my art.”---------Stefano wants to make a different sort of art with SebastianOr, Sebastian meets Stefano and things don't go well for himOr, What the actual hell did I just write.(Trigger warnings for dubcon and violence)





	A Grand Climax

**Author's Note:**

> Let's talk about how the longest thing I've written on this site is porn.  
> Actually lets not.  
> This is my first time writing something like this *ever* So, I have no idea what I'm doing, but here you go. 
> 
> Thanks and enjoy.

Even after killing it, Sebastian still couldn’t tell what _it_ was. Well, other than grotesque _,_ but everything else Union was that as well.

It was made from bodies, he knew that much. At least a dozen decapitated heads on top of four entire corpses. They were tied off in twos to work as legs. In between was nothing more than a fleshless spine, which bowed under the weight but did not snap. There were two arms as well. One fat and useless as anything more than a battering ram, the other nothing more than bone and tendon ended with buzz-saw that was roughly the size of his entire upper body.

Grotesque might be too light a word for what this was. He just hoped it stayed dead. There must be a special place in hell for people who create things like this.

Swallowing down his bile, Sebastian syphoned the bubbling green slime into a jar before walking past the vile creature’s carcass towards the doors of City Hall.

\------

Everything he found inside was equally as terrible as that creature outside.

The now-dead man at the entrance told him he needed to fix some fucking machine over finding his daughter. It pissed him off, but whatever. No one could take care of their own shit in this place. That’s why he was here after all.

But, the deeper he got in this place the more he felt he was in over his head. This fucking Camera Bastard’s “art” seemed to become more and more horrifying as he continued through. Girls their faces cut off and roses where their heads should be. Two dozen pulsating statues of those beasts from the streets. More men trapped in their last breath, looping eternally. Forget having a “special place”, when this guy made it to hell he was gonna have his own ring.

At least he had a guess as to who the bastard was. He saw the name in a newspaper article that had been laying on a table in the hallway. Stefano Valentini.

Sebastian _knew_ that name. He’d been an artist back in Krimson City. Friends with one of the victims of an unknown serial killer. It was an old case he had worked on before. He remembered it had gone cold when the killer suddenly stopped killing. They had assumed he had gotten bored and moved, although they had heard no reports of similar killings from any other cities. Sebastian would bet anything that he had just found him.

It took a while to shuffle through all the horrors lying around here, but he finally made it to Mobius’ Emitter. It was in what seemed to be Valentini’s darkroom. Fifty or so naked blubs hung from the ceiling by wires and the room was doused in an ominous red tint.

The Emitter looked just like an ordinary generator, however, when he placed the authorized terminal that Harrison had given him, a huge satellite dish appeared out the top of the machine. It buzzed with electricity.

_“ **Restart sequence initiated.”**_

Well, good then. That was easier than he expected.

As Sebastian was distracted by the machine, he failed to notice the door being pushed open behind him until it was too late. He reached for his weapon just as he heard the flash of a camera and his body became trapped in the motion.

_Shit._

               “You have been searching for me for so long. So, I have come.”

Sebastian terror quickly mounted as he saw Stefano standing before him. He was holding his camera loosely in one hand. The camera-wielding shit crossed the room slowly. He was in no hurry to reach his newest victim. “But, wait. It’s not me you seek, is it? No. It’s the girl.”

He looked to be considering Sebastian’s motives as he began to circle him. The action was too alike with a predator stalking prey for the detective’s comfort. Stefano looked up and grinned in a way that showed all his teeth.

“I should be offended.”

Sebastian was afraid. He could only remember feeling so helpless when facing Ruvik back in Beacon. His entire form screamed with tension that he could not relieve. The only movement he could manage in this invisible cage was with his eyes and he locked them to Stefano, watching him carefully. Whatever happened now, he was at the mercy of this merciless man. And this bastard knew it.

“But, how can I be?” Stefano continued his speech without pause. He was clearly enjoying himself. “You’re not the only person who wants her power. There is another, one far more deserving. One who can offer rewards you could never imagine.”

If Sebastian could have blinked, he would have. _Another? Someone else wants Lily for…power?_ Why hadn’t anyone else mentioned this other guy? Such a person sounded as if they would be powerful already. What were they hoping to gain with his daughter?

Stefano’s shoes clipped against the tiled floor as he made his way back to Sebastian’s front successfully drawing the detective back to the present. He watched as a knife was produced from nothing. The weapon’s elegant handle glinted in the red light with a dangerous sort of beauty.

The artist poised to strike.

_I’m going to die._

“So sorry,” he grinned, “but you’ve been out bid.”

The weapon sliced through the air with graceful precision, audible in its speed. It was plunging straight for his eye. Sebastian could not even flinch as he prepared for death.

_Sorry, Lily, Mira. Forgive me._

The attack never connected. A second passed in stillness. The sharp point of Stefano’s weapon had stopped a mere centimetre away from Sebastian’s exposed eye. The detective sucked in a heavy breath through his nose.

Stefano laughed, and it was a horrible, godforsaken sound. This man wasn’t human. He was the devil.

“Fear…radiates from you.” He said and drove the knife’s tip into Sebastian’s temple. The pain bloomed as the knife was pulled down. It sliced through the skin along its path with no resistance. When Stefano pulled away, the wound was opened to his cheekbone and the blood that flowed from it dripped down his cheek. The knife was painted in red.

The killer inspected the liquid ruby creeping down the blade of his tool before regarding Sebastian again. His eyes were holding something that Sebastian liked even less than the idea of dying. He extended his arm towards the trapped detective to caress his face with a gloved hand. As his thumb passed the wound he dug in, prying it open and burrowing deep to the bone. Blood poured from the abused gash and the telltale smell of rust filled the air around them.

It surprised Sebastian that he could scream. He could not move away, but his voice tore out of his throat in protest to the torture.

The noise pleased Stefano. He hummed happily and removed his hand slowly with relish. The leather covering his fingers was crimson, and he rubbed the liquid between finger and thumb. “Its beautiful…but not yet finished.”

He stepped away and watched the detective as if appraising an art piece.

“I want to make a different sort of art with you, my dear detective.”

_What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_

 Stefano did not elaborate further. Instead, began walking over to retrieve a metal chair that was leaning against the wall to his right. He grabbed it by the back and drug it behind him back to Sebastian. The legs screeched against the cement floor as it went, and the noise made Sebastian’s skin crawl.

The artist positioned the chair just behind him. Sebastian could feel the kiss of cold metal through his trousers on the back of his knees.

“Do sit,” Stefano said pleasantly as he pressed his hand to Sebastian’s chest and pushed him back onto the chair. Sebastian’s breathing quickened. He did not like this one bit. He remembered seeing this bastard kill one of the Mobius operatives execution style while he was tied to a chair.

Rope appeared, and the artist began to arrange him. He tied each leg to a leg of the chair and did the same with his arms. He had bound him with the rope tight enough that he was losing circulation to his hands and feet. The artist moved on and tossed all of Sebastian’s weapons aside, taking his holsters from his shoulders and his belt as well. When he was satisfied, Stefano leaned back to inspect his work.

“Very nice.” He leered, and his eyes roomed over Sebastian’s helpless, bound form. He ran a hand up the inside of his thigh. Even leaning away, he was still practically between the detective's legs.

_What the fuck!_

Sebastian tried to make a struggle, but he could only make himself grunt. Stefano’s eyes snapped up to meet his own.

“What’s the matter, Detective?” He asked as his hand continued upwards toward his crotch. “You don’t want to make art with me?”

The artist’s hand reached its destination. Stefano pressed down his palm and rubbed. The shock of the action caused Sebastian to release a noise halfway between protest and pleasure. He wanted to struggle. The man’s hand on him was just as arousing as it was revolting, and he _hated_ it. Stefano was watching him closely. His bottom lip was clenched between his teeth and his eyes were blown wide with lust.

Then, he removed his hand.

“I’m going to trap you in a different sort of end.”

He picked up his knife off the ground.

_No, no, no! What the **fuck**!_

Sebastian grunted his protest, but the artist paid him no mind. He sat up on his knees and leaned close to the detective's chest. The position was intimate. Stefano’s hips were snug between his legs and his lips were mere inches from his throat.

“Relax, my dear detective.” The artist whispered. Sebastian could feel the heat of his breath puffing against the exposed skin around his collar. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He raised the knife to strike in a motion reminiscent of a few minutes prior. But, this time he followed through. He brought the blade swiftly downwards, slicing through Sebastian’s cotton shirt. Despite his earlier assurance, the detective felt the sharp bite of the cool blade against his skin. He hissed.

“Oops.”, came as a coy reply and was not at all sorry.

The wound was not as deep as the one on his cheek. The flow of blood was more sluggish as result. But, it bled enough Sebastian could still feel it trickling slowly down his stomach. Some of it absorbed into the ripped cotton of his shirt, red blooming there like roses.

“ _Very_ nice,” Stefano repeated once again. He stuck his hand into the rip his knife had made in the fabric and dragged it across the detective’s abdomen. “You’re very fit, aren’t you?”

Deft fingers flicked at a nipple. For the first time since he had become paralyzed, Sebastian willed his body _not_ to respond.

“Are you sensitive, detective?” Stefano’s voice grew deeper, thicker. His lips passed lightly across smooth skin. Sebastian breath came out in pants as the artist licked up the column of his throat, tasting him. His body began to betray him. He could feel himself growing harder. The artist bit down suddenly and Sebastian groaned. He felt Stefano hum against his neck as he lapped at the wound with his tongue. He ground his hips forward suddenly, creating delicious friction, and Sebastian tried to remind himself that he was supposed to hate him.

“Hmm, this would be so much more fun if you could respond, don’t you think?”

And suddenly he could move again.

“You fucking ba-ahstard.” He growled driving his hips sharply forward into the other man’s. He could feel the other man’s arousal against his own.

“Mmmm, how nice to hear your voice, detective,” Stefano said and punctuated the statement by driving his tongue into the bite.

“Shit, fuck, you fucking— _shit_.”

“How eloquent.”

The artist began to move his mouth downwards. He sucked and bit over all the skin in his path. Sebastian continued to roll their hips together with fervour, no longer giving a shit who he was. All he could think was that _it felt good._ The chair beneath him rocked with his desperate movements.

When Stefano reached his collarbone he pulled his lips away and ripped through the fabric remaining of his shirt.

“Motherfucker.” How was he supposed to get another shirt in this place?

The artist didn’t deign to respond, and he wasn’t complaining very long. As soon as his chest was bare, Stefano latched onto him again. He sucked viciously at one nipple while rolling the other between his fingers.

“Oh, God.” Sebastian moaned. “ _Fuck_.”

Stefano’s lips smiled against him and his free hand slid down the detective's side, feeling its way along the cut caused by his knife. Sebastian barely had any time to register it before the artist was digging open that gash as well.

“What the fuck!” He squirmed away, but Stefano was persistent. He dug in the wound with just as much enthusiasm as he used to suck on his chest. Sebastian continued to struggle. He couldn’t tell if he wanted more or less. The more he fought and twisted, the more the rope burned and cut into his wrists. It was only a matter of time before those began to bleed too.

               “Fucking _stop_ ,” Sebastian begged him.

And Stefano did.

He stopped everything.

Sebastian ached with the loss. His hips bucked forward, trying to chase the artist’s as they moved away. “W-wait—”

“My dear detective,” Stefano chided, “Does clay whine? Does a canvas protest? You are my medium, and you will do as I bid.”

Pain exploded in his thigh.

“Arrgaahhh!”

The artist had taken his knife and drove it straight down to the hilt. Sebastian breathed shallowly through his teeth. He clenched his fists tightly, driving his nails into his palms, trying to distract himself from the agony.

“Let’s try this again.”

With the knife still embedded in his leg, Stefano started to undo his pants. He made quick work of the button and zipper before sliding the fabric of slacks as well as boxers down, pulling it far enough that Sebastian’s bare ass was now against the cold metal of the chair. He hissed at the uncomfortable chill.

               Between all the pain and discomfort, he had gone soft. But, this didn’t seem to deter Stefano. He grabbed onto Sebastian’s flaccid cock and pumped it once, twice, and then pressed his lips to it and _sucked._

               “Oh, God. Holy _fuck_ —” Sebastian babbled.

               The man’s tongue was experienced. Lapping and teasing _just right_. And, _his_ _mouth_. Beautiful, wet heat surrounded him. A piece of heaven, granted by the devil. It didn’t matter that there was a knife protruding from his leg, he was harder than he had ever been in his life. And Stefano’s sweet mouth was swallowing him down to the base. With one hand on either of the detective’s thighs, he bobbed up and down, up and down, on the detective’s cock, bringing the head to the back of his throat.

He pulled off slightly to let the slippery muscle swirl around the tip before teasing at the slit. He prodded it with his tongue and Sebastian’s fists were clasping the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled grip.

All the while, the artist was watching him. His eye that was not covered by his bangs was staring hungrily, ready to devour him. His pupil blown wide until only a small ring of colour showed. Even when his lips were sucking cock, there was no mistake who was in charge here.

As if to prove this, just as Sebastian was slipping over the edge, one of the hands moved to the hilt of the knife. He twisted sharply and pulled.

Sebastian came screaming. He had never known climax to feel like this. All his nerves were on fire and he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain. Black spots danced around his vision and for a moment, he backed out.

               Stefano slapped his face none too gently. “That was _magnificent_ , detective, however, my work is not complete.”

 The detective groaned. When his eyes opened, he saw the artist had removed his own clothes save for his gloves. The rest were folded neatly and set out of the way. He couldn’t help but notice in his slight daze that Stefano’s body was lean and well-muscled.

_So even psychopathic killers care about their body image…_

Of course, the knife was still in the artist’s hand. Sebastian really wished he would stop with the stabbing.

“I’ll have to be quick. From that wound in your leg, you will be losing a lot of blood. I’m not sure how long you will last.”

Sebastian could feel that he was right. His body was feeling sluggish and it wasn’t only from the orgasm. He shifted his eyes to the injury. The blood from his leg was seeping through the fabric of his trousers at an alarming rate.

He felt himself becoming detached from reality. He couldn’t tell if this was real or not anymore.

“Ugh…”

“There, there, detective. Don’t worry-y…mmnnhhh…”

Sebastian watched in stupid awe as the artist leaned over him, wrapping one arm around the back of his shoulders, the other back to his own ass, allowing his fingers to thrust in and out of himself. His head drooped between them, only inches away from Sebastian’s own face, bangs hanging away from his forehead. His hair smelled like roses.

He tried to reach out, but his hands wouldn’t budge from where they were tied. The rope stung his abused wrists. When had his hands become tied again?

“Would you like to touch me, detective?” The tone was condescending, but it went over his head.

Sebastian nodded dumbly, then his hands were free. He couldn’t remember any in between, but it didn’t matter. He reached out his hands and ran them through the artist's hair, lifting his drooped head up to look him in the eyes.

_Weird._

His previously hidden eye was strange. It looked like something was crawling under the skin around it. Like worms. That had to be fake. Too weird.

Sebastian tightened his grip in the man’s hair.

“Ahhh… _Sebastian_.” The noise went straight to Sebastian’s dick.

Who was this guy again? It didn’t matter.

Sebastian pulled him closer by the tufts of hair captured in his fist until he could get his mouth on his jaw. He bit the skin all the way to his ear, not even giving the pretext of kissing. The man was writhing on his own fingers now, moaning all the while.

“Heathen. Uncultured _swine_. I will make you beautiful. _Ohhh_ … I will make you _art_.”

This guy was babbling nonsense. Sebastian couldn’t tell what the hell he was talking about, but he was hard and desperate for him. Desperate for him to do _something_.

“Get on. With it.” The detective growled into the ear between his teeth.

“Yes _._ ” The man agreed, and he was moving.

Sebastian was engulfed in _tight heat_. He couldn’t _think_. He couldn’t _breathe_.

“ _Yes.”_ The man hissed as he impaled himself on his cock.

“Holy shit.” He said in awe. His brain had gone stupid. “Holy fuck.”

“ _Mmmm_. So _good_.” The man was fully seated on him now. He paused for a moment as he reached the base, letting his eyes shutter closed and his head fall back. “Ahhh.”

Sebastian had no patience for that. He bucked his hips upwards with force enough to jostle the other man. Two gloved hands shot out to grip at his shoulders and a low moan vibrated through the space between them.

“You’re very eager…for an art piece. _Uhhnn_.”

He ignored the other man’s words. Just humped again and again into him. Soon, the man started to grind down in response. Rolling his hips and _squeezing_ …

Sebastian was painting into his skin. Gripping his waist tight in his hands, tight enough to bruise. His blunt nails dug crescents there. Blood was blooming to the surface.

“How nice… making a-art of me…to-oo…” He was panting now, his body shuttered with every thrust Sebastian gave him. Weeping dick slapping against the muscles of his abdomen as he bounced. Sebastian bit down on his nipple and he gasped.

And then the trusting grew shallow, and the grip grew slack.

He could tell the detective was losing consciousness again. His eyes were starting to fall closed and he was no longer moving. Stefano growled his frustration as he continued to ride him. He knew he couldn’t risk stabbing his muse again, he had already done too much. Any more and the man would die before he was finished.

He slapped him once again. Hard enough to sting his own hand. The force of it broke the skin of the detective’s lip, but his eyes slid back open. He was delirious with blood loss. His eyes were hazy and confused, but lust burned there. _Yes._

It was almost time. He was going to come, he could feel it. Only a couple more thrusts and…

“W-who are you?” came in a raspy grunt from the bloody and used detective as he pistoned in and out of him in a haze.

Stefano pulled himself away, slipping himself off the man’s dripping cock. His body ached with the loss, but he ignored it. It was so easy to break the hold Sebastian had on him. The detective’s body was so weak right now, barely even conscious. He was angry about it though. He growled in a sort of animalistic rage, frustrated and unsatisfied, and tried to reach after him. The artist placed a placating hand his shoulders, pushing them back and wrapped the other around his dick.

“I am Stefano.” He answered, “And you are now my art.”

All it took was one tug, and Sebastian was coming.

Instantly, the flash of a camera sounded in the distance and the distorted haze caught the detective. The artist moved back to admire his newest work.

_Beautiful_. He thought as he watched the detective come again, and again, and again.

He wrapped a hand around himself as he looked. He was already so close like his dear detective had been. He jerked himself once, and as he ran a leather-clad thumb over the head he came in thick spurts.

“Nnnnggg…” His body curled in on itself even as he stood. He was forced to his knees, the pleasure, unlike anything he had felt before. For a moment, it felt as though maybe the camera had captured him as well. The waves of pleasure _just kept coming_.

               Sucking in air, he calmed himself back down. He pushed his hair, tangled and pushed back from the detective’s fingers, back into place and moved towards his discarded clothes. He would have to get a plaque, he thought as he put them back on.

               He turned to leave.

               _Sebastian Castellanos. A grand climax._


End file.
